


Canada Isn't The Worst, Yuri Isn't Angry, and Jean Isn't a douche

by Lazydesk



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Color Blindness, Feeling each other's pain, M/M, Mila is Yuri's relationship counselor, Nathalie Leroy adores Yuri, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9337682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazydesk/pseuds/Lazydesk
Summary: Yuri liked how the world  looked in black and white. Honestly he really didn't care if he found his soulmate. The gradients of black, white, and grey were enough for him.





	1. Why Oh Why Canada

**Author's Note:**

> Another soulmate AU since I had so much fun writing the last one. This series is in no way connected with Belladonna. I just really love the idea of soulmates!

"“When you loved someone and had to let them go, there will always be that small part of yourself that whispers, "What was it that you wanted and why didn't you fight for it?” 

-Shannon L. Alder

                Somehow Canada looked good in black and white. Yuri could ruefully admit that. What he was unwilling to admit was that he liked the country. Yuri was here to be trained by a different coach in the off season. Victor had sent Yuri Plisetski, winner of the Grand Prix for four consecutive years to a skate with Nathalie and Alain Leroy because he and Yuuri had adopted a baby. Not that Yuri could blame his two coaches for taking time off but honestly if Yuuri hadn’t been there when Victor told him, he would have smacked the smile off the silver haired man’s face. At twenty-one all he really wanted to do was skate, eat, shower, and sleep. Skating was his entire life. That did not mean he wanted to spend his summer in Canada training with JJ’s coaches. The thought made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Not only would Yuri be forced to skate with people under his skill level but he would have to put up with the asshat as well.

     The apartment Victor had gotten Yuri was comfortable and warm. Cherry floors and wide windows opened up the spacious studio apartment. Bug, Yuri’s grumpy old feline companion was curled up on his belly. The little ball of warmth was comforting as the two had been together since he was a child. Absentmindedly he stroked his fingers through Bug’s short silver coat. It had honestly been nice to be alone for the first couple of days. The Katsuki-Nikiforovs were overbearing and it didn’t help that Yuri spent almost all of his time with them. Over the last couple of years he spent more time with Yuuri and Victor than was probably healthy. Though he would admit the two men were his family, annoying brothers he never wanted. Now he just felt bored and lonely.

     Rolling onto his belly, Yuri dialed Otabek’s number and waited for his best friend to answer. A sleepy grumble was his only indicator that Otabek had in fact picked up the phone at two in the morning.

     “I know it’s late but I’m feeling antsy.” Yuri muttered. The time difference between Quebec and Almaty was eleven hour; that really didn’t matter since the two of them had long lost the embarrassment of calling each other at odd hours. There was a female groan and Yuri heard Mila on the other end of the line. “And tell Mila to stop bitching, just because she is your soulmate doesn’t mean she gets to keep all of you. Your half mine too as a matter of fact.” There were two things that happened in your life when it came to soulmates; everyone had two, one platonic and the other romantic. Luckily the two were easy to distinguish between. Your world would be devoid of color until you met your romantic soulmate. Sometimes, although rare, it could take time before a pair would start to see color; there were stories of people who had known each other for years and then could just suddenly see color. The other thing was they shared each other’s pain, pleasure, and sensation. Occasionally they could feel things like a hug or when their other half was being tickled. That part Yuri could do without. Platonic soulmates were much easier. Whatever they wrote on their skin transferred to the other person. They could also feel each other’s emotions. Yuri loved the little doodles that Otabek left on his arms as encouragement not to murder anyone.

     “I know,” Otabek murmured, “You feel like you’re about to combust with anxiety.” He wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest. Canada had him on edge. It had been a week since he had arrived and so far avoided complaining to his best friend.

     “The people here are handsy, they’re too loud, and can’t hold their liquor. All I want to do is drink my vodka in peace, but noooooope. Beka have bail money ready,” Yuri commented miserably and ran a hand through his messy hair.

     “Yuri!” Mila yelled into the speaker, “Are you excited to train with JJ?” He knew she was baiting him but he chose to bite.

     “Listen hag, you already have my best friend. You don’t get to take the last little bit of joy that I have. JJ won’t be skating with me if I can help it and if he does I’ll destroy him.” Otabek’s disapproval washed over him in waves but Yuri ignored it. Mila just laughed and made kissy noises at him.

     “Everything will be fine Yura. Try and get some sleep, you start training tomorrow. You’ll need it.” Yuri scoffed but muttered a quiet I love you in Otabek’s ear and even gave Mila an affectionate goodbye.

     The next morning Yuri stumbled grumpily into the skating rink, thermos of coffee and water bottle in hand. Blurry eyed he saw Mr. and Mrs. Leroy observing him. He managed to acknowledge them with a polite nod. Unlike Russia, Canada clearly insisted on reminded you of its bright a sunny reputation. The time change and lack of Russian’s screaming at each other in traffic had put him in a rather sour mood. Setting down his bag, Yuri laid out his skates and laced them quickly. In middle of tugging on his gloves a hand pressed to the center of his back. The hairs on the back of Yuri’s neck stood up but he knew it was best to ignore the presence of the Canadian than acknowledge him.

     “What’s wrong princess, rough morning?” JJ spoke teasingly in his ear. Yuri sighed and turned to face his greatest rival. In the last five years he had finally almost reached JJ’s height, the top of his head resting at eye level.

     “Yes,” Was the only reply he dignified the arrogant man with and started to walk to the ice, skates clacking against the floor. As soon as the guards were off, Yuri darted into the rink. It had been a week since he had last been on the ice; the burn in his muscles was so wonderful. The experience was pleasant in general until he heard feminine laughter ring out across the rink. Isabella Yang stood next to JJ, face alight with pleasure. Yuri scoffed and launched into a triple flip. Elation course through his veins, adrenaline hot.

     The day was pretty monotonous but Nathalie Leroy had surprised him. Immediately the two of them had an understanding for one another. Yuri couldn’t handle his coach being gentle, requiring a firm hand and brutal honesty. Nathalie was blunt, unrelenting, and candid in her opinions. When Yuri was dripping sweat and his hair was falling from his ponytail, Nathalie ordered him through his jump sets once more. The other skaters were off the ice, including Jean but lingered to watch the Russian skate. Honestly he was thankful for Nathalie’s rather savage training regimen, and he could tell she was testing his limits. Even though Victor had sent over his usual training plan, he was glad to see that she was willing to push. Who would have guessed that the tiny round woman would be so savage in her coaching.

     When his legs were shaking too much to skate on much longer, he looped around to Nathalie. Taking in slow deep breaths he stilled himself.

     “I can keep going if you want but we would need to limit the jumps to singles,” He told her. Nathalie’s eyes swept over him analytically and waved him off the ice.

     “You did well Yuri,” She spoke, her voice was clear and her accent reminded him far too much of his own mother. “I look forward to our time together. Victor said that you needed help on your stamina but you seem to be just fine.” Yuri was going to kill Victor. Ever since Yuuri, he expected the skaters he coached to have almost unnatural stamina and recovery times. Yuri Plisetski’s was not something to laugh at; he could jump high and skate harder than anyone else in his age group. It was partially due to stamina and partially due to spite. Yuri refused to be anything less than exceptional. So far he had far exceeded even than that.

     “Thank you Ma’am,” He replied and slid on the guards that Nathalie handed him. The woman in her late forties smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. Unused to the contact, Yuri looked up in surprise.

     “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” She asked, eye twinkling. “Mr. Nikiforov said that you came here completely alone.” Yuri considered a moment before nodding. Even if JJ was there, Yuri was dying for a home cooked meal. Out of his many talents, cooking was not one of them. Nathalie smiled and told him to go home, shower, and she’d be by to pick him up at six.

     The Leroy house was a beautiful beautiful space that had his jaw on the floor. Nathalie patted his back and helped him shrug out of his coat. Yuri didn’t really have time to take anything in before a tiny flash darted by him. A mischievous looking kitten skidded to a halt and arched its back, butt wiggling. A giant dog zoomed into the room after the small creature and stopped on a dime. Before he could help himself he was walking cautiously over to the kitten. Bending down he offered his hand out, rubbing two coaxing fingers together. The little calico jumped and tackled his hand, claws digging in. A big smile spread across his face as he brought her to his chest.

     “What’s her name?” He asked and blatantly ignored the dog. Instead of Nathalie soft voice answering him, a small childish one did.

     “That’s Nixie,” The little girl murmured. Yuri blinked in surprise. The girl was a spitting image of JJ, expect she seemed far more pleasant than the oaf. “And you’re Yuri Plisetski!” She had the twinkle in her eye. To his surprise she had her mother’s critical eye.

     “Claire has been a fan of yours for a long time,” Nathalie said and walked over to her daughter, “She will be skating in the junior division for the first time this year.” Yuri could see the corded muscles and posture of a skater already.

     “Mama won’t let me do quads even though I can,” Claire muttered bitterly. A smile broke out across his face. Apparently two out of the five Leroys weren’t so bad. Standing Yuri shot the little girl a grin.

     “Let me tell you a story about along those lines,” He smiled fondly at memories long past as they walked into the kitchen.

     An hour later the front door banged open. Yuri was helping Nathalie in the kitchen and listening to Claire talk about skating. For a thirteen year old, she was intense and attentive. Out of the corner of his eye Yuri spotted a shy looking boy in hockey gear. If he thought Claire was a clone of JJ, the boy was even more so. The same wide eyes and arched brows accented a soft and oval face. Alain trailed in after his son and spotted Yuri. The older man shared a number of traits with his son. A cocky grin and loud personality that famous at skating tournaments.

     “Yuri,” Alain exclaimed, “My wife said you might be joining us for dinner.” He simply nodded in response. Taking a deep breath, Yuri decided to try and strike up a conversation. These people would be coaching him for the next couple months, it would be good to build some semblance of a relationship with them.

     “I was getting rather bored at my apartment. Most of my things have arrived but it can get a little too quiet.” Alain laughed and dug through the fridge and extended a beer over to Yuri, which he gladly took.

     “Well you won’t find that here. We can be a rowdy bunch. Honestly I’m surprised you came, Jean says you’re pretty reclusive at all of your competitions.” Nathalie shot her husband a look but Yuri surprised them all by letting out a giggle.

     “He’s not wrong. I do tend to keep to myself.” Yuri had calmed down since he was fifteen. Sure he was still angry, spiteful, and introverted but he had become slightly more personable. “You son is my rival and his personality grates mine. We were never fated to get along. That being said, I will never turn down a free meal.” He shrugged and took a sip of his beer. The timer on the stove top went off and they took their seats at the large table. For the first time in ages, Yuri felt relaxed.

     That was ruined when half way through dinner JJ and Isabella showed up. Both of them walked into the kitchen and JJ immediately noticed Yuri and stared almost as if he were a poltergeist that wasn’t supposed to be there.

     “You look like a moron with you chin on the ground,” Yuri bit out dryly. Clair snickered in her seat next to him. Jean pulled out a chair and muttered something to his brother in French. It was mostly too quiet for Yuri to hear but he did catch the words “princess” and “fairy” along the way. The fairy of Russia was a title he now wore with pride. The years had made him tall but he was still lithe and willowy. If anything he used his angelic and dainty looks as publicity. “And stop calling me princess, I can understand you just fine in French and English.” That shocked everyone at the table. Isabella cocked her head to the side.

     “Where’d you learn that?” She asked him, honestly curious. Taking a sip of his beer, Yuri threw caution to the wind since he had already revealed the information.

     “My mother was French, raised in Paris. When she married my dad, she immigrated to Russia. When I was a child we spoke both languages in the house.” Yuri offered dryly. Nathalie could see that the topic had made him rather uncomfortable.

     “I’ve never seen your parents,” JJ said offhanded, brow cocked. “Not interested in skating?” The question stung but Yuri kept his gaze level with JJ’s and face impassive.

     “More like they weren’t interested in me…or each other after a few years.” JJ looked genuinely shocked. People like him would never understand how hard it had been for Yuri. Grandpa had been there to raise him but money had been tight. When he had moved in with him, the damage had already been done to Yuri.

     “Weren’t they soulmates?” Isabella asked, lips pursed. Yuri snorted and finished the rest of his beer and was surprised when Alain immediately replaced it. Both Nathalie and her husband recognized that the conversation they had stumbled into was not the safest or most comfortable.

     “No, they were most certainly not.” Isabella made a sad noise at the back of her throat. “In Russia soulmates are not treated with the reverence most countries have for them. They are seen as something avoidable if not completely asinine.” Claire tugged his sleeve and Yuri turned to look at her, allowing his face to soften.

     “Do you have a soulmate? Can you see colors?” She asked him in a rapid fire session.

     “I can’t see color but Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan is my platonic soulmate and we are incredibly close.” The whole table looked rather somber.

     “Jean’s my platonic soulmate!” Isabella offered cheerfully, despite previous interactions with the woman Yuri found himself thankful that she took the focus off him. He was also startled to learn that the two of them were solely platonic. “We know his soulmate is a skater of some kind and a dancer. When he was growing up Jean got the bruises of a novice skater. Probably a few years younger,” Yuri chuckled and smiled at her thankfully.

     “Mine too, though mine is older.” When I was a boy there would be bruises on the inside of my feet and on my elbows. Mila was convinced that they were a hockey player for a while since they got lots of bruises and the wind knocked out of their lungs so often.” JJ snorted.

     “That would fit the you just perfect wouldn’t it ice queen,”

     After dinner Yuri helped Nathalie with the dishes. When the others were out of ear shot, she leaned over to him.

     “I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable at dinner. Sometimes they forget how lucky that they are to have a good family and safe home.” Yuri shook his head to reassure her that he had not been offended, surprised but not offended.

     “It’s fine,” Yuri told her gently, “All the skaters in Russia know, it’s just that I forget not everyone else does.” He dried off a plate and settled it into the rack. The evening had been nice despite JJ showing up. It had been so long since he had just sat down and enjoyed something as simple as a family dinner.

     “I didn’t come from a happy home either,” The kind older woman said softly, “It can be overwhelming around people who’ve never experienced heartbreak that only a parent can give you. Just know you’re welcome here anytime. The Leroy household is open to anyone in need of somewhere safe to stay,” Yuri appreciated the thought immensely.

     When Yuri told JJ where he lived, the loud mouthed man burst into laughter. Apparently they were neighbors separated by three doors. Nathalie had assumed that Yuri had known that all along. So when the night came to a close, Isabella offered to drive him home. The car ride was mostly filled with the two Canadians bantering back and forth. JJ turned around in the passenger seat to talk to Yuri.

     “Your skating was impressive today. I didn’t realize how much stamina you had. You seemed to blitz through your routines last season,” It was almost a compliment. Jean was paying close enough attention to see that something had been off. Yuri chose to still be offended.

     “That’s because I was injured shortly before the season started, tore a ligament in my right leg. I over rotated on a quad during practice and I felt it for the entire season,” Yuri explained. JJ blinked in surprise.

     “And you still skated?” Yuri rolled his eyes in response.

     “I would skate even if I was on my death bed,” He spoke bitterly. Jean bobbed his head in something akin to respect. That gave made the entire car ride with the idiot worth it.


	2. Where Did The Party Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the universe is kind and other times it slaps you across the face and takes you for everything you're worth.

“Inhale when I inhale. Exhale when I exhale. Breathe with me, for two beating hearts breathing one breath together become one.” 

-Christina Westover

           The next day Jean decided to watch Yuri skate a little closer. Now that the injury had been pointed out, it was obvious. The way his right leg trailed a bit or the way Yuri’s mouth would purse into a thin line when he came down to hard. Last season Jean took silver 0.02 points behind the little Russian, well it wasn’t fair to call him little anymore. The first time they had been on the podium Yuri had still been shorter than him, even though he was raised up a few inches. They now could stand almost eye to eye. It was a hit to Jeans confidence that the only reason he had come close to gold was the fact that Yuri had been suffering from an injury. Despite that, year after year he gave the Russian a run for his money. Jean’s scores almost always sat a mere few points under Yuri’s own. This was going to be his year.

            Where Jean kept subtly out of his routines and went with an almost purely technical side of things Yuri had excellent footwork. There was a spin so distinct that he knew exactly where it came from, it was the beautiful specialty of Yuuri Katsuki. The blond had it refined and Nathalie looked impressed when Yuri skated over to her. Jean moved backwards on the ice. It was only him and Yuri on the ice since the two of them were in an entirely different skill level than the other skaters. It annoyed Yuri, Jean could tell. Isabella had pointed it out to him. Yuri didn’t like to be around other people, if anything he pulled inwards as soon as things got to crowded. Jean also knew Yuri appeared to dislike being touched. Isabella had always been sensitive to that sort of thing. Jean on the other hand loved to be the center of attention. He loved to be touched, it was how he learned to associate someone as a friend. The way a person moved or reacted to a hand on the back or finger on their wrist could tell him so much without so as a word. Yuri was interesting in that he flinched at the beginning of the touch and then leaned into it. Touch starved seemed appropriate.

            When they were done for the day, Yuri yanked off his shirt and Jean burst into laughter. _Mila’s whore_ , was written across his lower back in English and rather distinctly girly hand writing. Jean found it funny that Mila used her soulmate to tease her rink mate. Yuri turned to glower at him and Jean gestured to his back.

            “Looks like your soulmate had a run in with your rink mate,” Jean chuckled and slipped on his guards. The blond’s face flushed as he peered in the mirror and uttered something distinctly vulgar in Russian under his breath.

            “I’m going to kill that hag.” He yanked a pen out of his gym bag and set to writing on his own skin. The Russian letters meant nothing Jean but he could picture the litany of curses being scrawled across that pale skin. Poor Otabek had deal with Mila and Yuri, honestly Jean couldn’t picture a worse form of hell. He was actually quite good friends with Mila but Yuri not so much. The two Russians had such loud and volatile personalities that it was hard to picture someone as quiet as Otabek being bound to them forever. The universe was sometimes cruel and it most definitely worked in mysterious ways.

            That night Jean was feeling rather bored, that is until he felt like causing a ruckus. Grabbing a bottle of tequila down from the self in his kitchen, he went three doors down and knocked. Yuri answered the door with his hair soaking wet; Jean noted that there was a rosy flush over the majority of his body. When the angry Russian saw who it was he started to prepare himself to shut the door, Jean shushed him.

            “I come in peace with an offering for the queen.” Jean lifted the bottle into the air. Yuri invited him in quickly at the sight of the bottle.

            “Do all Canadians suck at getting drunk?” Yuri asked him and settled on the love seat nearest the fireplace. The large studio was a completely different layout than his own two bedroom. As he stepped into the space there was twinge in his right leg, nothing incredible just irritating.

            “What is that supposed to mean?” Jean shot him a nasty look, he had always been patriotic. Yuri leveled his gaze and curled up the corner of his lip. The way he was look at Jean was regal and utterly unamused.

            “Your people can only stomach one or two shots before they start singing or dancing. They always talk too much, have no regard for personal space, and they don’t seem to understand that some people don’t want to be roped in watching hockey recaps. Jean chuckled and was just about to throw himself down onto the couch across from the love seat when he saw the large cat sleeping happily on its surface. Bending down he scratched the cat behind the ears. Lazy yellow eyes opened to look at him before slowly shutting once more, a low purr emitting from the beautiful cat’s chest. “Of course Bug likes you! You two are perfect for one another.” Jean grinned up at the blond and was surprised to see Yuri with a soft smile on his face. So the ice queen did have a heart, even if it did belong to a feline.

            “It’s cultural Yuri,” Jean chastised, “Russians sing when they’re drunk. They also get aggressive,” he said with a cheeky smile. Yuri clicked his tongue but opened the bottle and gulped down two shots. When the bottle made contact with the back of the table, the younger man sighed in satisfaction. Apparently Russians could just hold their liquor period.

            “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” There was a subtle bite to his words but they were not malicious. It was then that Jean realized that Yuri didn’t hate Canada, just the people. Taking a swig, he laughed at the mere idea. Of course Yuri would love a country but not its citizens.

            An hour later Jean found out that drunk Yuri was rather loose lipped and more pleasant than his sober self. Jean had a sneaking suspicion that this was due to his inability to keep the many walls he had erected sturdy.  There was a warm flush to the younger man’s face and a soft smile on his lips. To occupy the time, he told Yuri about his sister’s skating like the proud brother he was.

            “I offered to train your sister on my days off,” Yuri commented offhandedly, “We are meeting at the rink after dinner tomorrow night if you want to come. You can even bring Isabella if you want, I don’t hate her as much as I thought I did.” The words were spoken clearly and without a single slur but Jean was still unsure he had heard right. It was rare for Yuri Plisetski to offer anything, much less his time.

            “You know that she isn’t allowed to do quads right?” Jean made sure to ask. Yuri gave his signature snort and tipped his head back against the love seat’s cushions.

            “I’m well aware. I told her she could win without them. She’s good, your sister. I spent last night watching videos of her skating. Claire is beyond advanced for her age. With the right coach she could easily become a legend in her own right. It’s rare for me to like anyone, but your sister has earned my respect,” Yuri told him, “But I won’t train her unless someone from the family is there. According to your mother she is wild and unpredictable. Personally I don’t know her limits as an athlete so I would prefer that someone who knows them is present.” That was another thing about Yuri, he was intelligent. Jean’s mom was analytical and smart. Yuri was so far beyond that it wasn’t even funny. There was also the fact that Yuri had an eidetic memory; Jean had noticed it during a competition, when he had spouted Jean’s skating ID number off the top of his head after only seeing it once.

            “What are you teaching her?”  Jean was honestly curious if not a bit worried. Yuri had a tendency to push too hard and too far.

            “How to fight a battle on the ice,” He answered Jean concisely, “And win it.” The ice to Yuri was something entirely different than it was to him. The little blond was cut throat and intense in a way that most competitors avoided. It was quite honestly amazing. For someone so elegant and graceful, Yuri was undoubtedly a nasty force of nature.

            “Just don’t let her fall too hard,” Jean spoke softly. Yuri’s eyes grew thoughtful and gentle.

            “Your sister is tougher than you JJ,” Yuri commented, “She’ll surpass you by fifteen,” Jean knew that Yuri was right.

            Claire skated next to Yuri. The concentration had caused both of their brows to pinch together. Isabella sat close to Jean, hand in his. For a while Yuri simply watched Claire just skate, then the atmosphere changed. To Jean’s shock the Russian was attentive and correcting her movements with gentle words and critical observation.  After they worked on footwork, the two moved onto jumps. Claire crashed and burned on her third jump of the night. Yuri was by her side asking what she thought she’d done wrong, allowing her to figure it out for herself. Jean was impressed when Yuri sensed that Claire was at the end of her patience and willpower. Within in minutes he had her doing laps around the rink and exited himself.

            While Claire was changing Yuri was giving Jean a stern talking to. The words he spoke were firm but were left open to suggestion.

            “Her left leg is too weak. She needs to start working it more aggressively before her right leg gets to strong and starts to do more harm than good. Her form is exceptional which I will assume she learned from you. It wouldn’t be a stretch for her to jumps with her arms raised. It’s also clear that she is far more talented than you will ever be.” The earlier compliment was erased as soon as the insult was uttered. Jean chucked despite everything and nodded in agreement. Never in his wildest dreams had he suspected Yuri Plisetski would be a good instructor but he didn’t mind too much that the universe had proven him wrong.

            “Yuri you should come out for drinks with me and Jean!” Isabella chimed in after the skaters had finished talking. For a moment the Russian looked like he wanted to bolt. There was a strange expression his face. It was like there was a battle between his wants and natural inclination to slither away into solitude going on in the back of his head. Jean slung his arm around Isabella and flashed Yuri his winning smile.  

            “Come on chaton, let’s go out. I promise we won’t take you where any scary tactile Canadians will get you!” Yuri sputtered clearly the little nickname Jean had come up with had not gone unnoticed. Isabella laughed loudly and Yuri scowled at both of them.

            “Absolutely not!” Yuri growled. Jean choked back some laughter, but then he noticed the discoloration on Yuri’s nose. Blushes were sometimes hard to see in black and white but it was clear as day on the Russian’s nose. Kitten, out of all the things Jean had called him that was what had embarrassed him.

            “You must come!” Isabella clapped her hands together, “I promise the bar we are going to is a hole in the wall. Trust me only locals will be there,” It was hard to argue with Isabella and Jean slowly saw the cracks in Yuri’s defense crumble.

            After Claire had been dropped off, the unlikely trio set out for the adventure of a lifetime. Yuri sat in the backseat on the phone. Russian filtered to Jean’s ears as did the sound of Victor Nikiforov’s name. On the phone with his coach, Yuri sounded softer like had with Claire. There was a slight lilt in his voice, vaguely emotional. Jean suddenly wished he could speak the language. When he hung up, Yuri caught Jean’s eye in the mirror.

            “Victor would like me to tell you thank you for your hospitality,” Yuri grumbled, teeth gritting together. “Though I told him that your mother was the true hero of the Leroy family and you deserved no praise.” The words were spoken like they caused physical pain. Grinning, Jean jabbed lightly at Yuri’s fragile patience until the younger man was begging him to shut up. Isabella watched the two with a faint amazement; it had always been interesting to watch the two interact, constantly bouncing off one another. The one thing she had that neither of them did was the ability to see color, having met her soulmate years ago. The two of them were alight with blushes and there was playful spark dancing in Jean’s blue eyes. It was curious. From the first moment she had met him, Isabella had thought Yuri was the perfect in his refined grace and elegance contrasted by a sour personality and inclination toward introverted behaviors. The polar opposite to Jean’s loud and overzealous personality. So she let them banter back and forth, their words passing over her half listening ears. If they weren’t rivals, the two of them could have been great friends.

            The bar was quiet considering it was a Sunday night. The two skaters had Sunday and Monday off but the rest of their week was jam packed full of rigorous exercise.

            “Yuri how do you usually spend your free time?” Isabella asked him as Jean settled down beside her. The blond man blinked, brow creasing. Jean noted it was the same expression he wore when he thought someone had asked a stupid question.

            “I skate and drink far too much,” Yuri answered shortly. They ordered shortly thereafter; Yuri had ordered three shots of vodka, Isabella had ordered a simple margarita, and Jean had settled on a white Russian which had earned him a rather dangerous look. Both Canadians watched Yuri down his three shots almost as soon as he had received them. Noticing their expressions, he wrinkled his nose.

            “Oh don’t even give me that look,” Yuri uttered, “I picked up the habit from Victor but not even I can keep up with him. Yuuri has managed to level him out some,” He mentioned offhandedly. Jean thought to the petite Japanese man and Victor, the two were both legends in their own right.

            “They’re soulmates right?” Isabella asked carefully not wishing to tread where she wasn’t welcome. The pinch grew into a full on scowl.

            “They fell into the category of rare bastards that don’t see color on first contact. Apparently when Yuuri did the quad flip at the cup of China that was the first time. I thought they were unbearable before, but they were even worse after.” Yuri had a frown on his face but his tone was soft.

            “That’s incredibly rare isn’t it?” Jean murmured, “It’s usually instant.” Isabella and Yuri both nodded in affirmation. As a psychologist and neurobiologist Isabella was remarkably well versed on soulmates and a good source of information. Jean was honestly ready to meet his soulmate and see the world the way Isabella did.

            “Honestly I don’t care much about meeting mine,” Yuri grumbled as the waitress brought him another round of shots. This time they all took one. Jean made a low sound and Isabella slammed her palms on the table.

            “Why not? I’ve studied countless cases of soulmates and their attraction to one another. It’s unflinching and beautiful. Unconditional love is something that all of us should strive for!” Yuri rolled his eyes at the woman and Jean saw a physical change in him.

            “Because some people are better off alone,” Yuri spoke surprisingly soft, “Some people are fated to be that way. I’ve never had an attraction to anyone. Even if my soulmate experiences extreme pleasure, and let me assure you he has, I don’t feel an attraction to that.” Isabella hummed low in her throat at Yuri’s explanation.

            “Interesting, personal sexuality usually determines the gender of your soulmate. This happens occasionally when a soul bond will be so strong you won’t feel anything until you recognize your person. How do you know they’re male?” Jean was honestly at a loss for how they got to where they were.

            “Well I can tell when they pleasure themselves they have the same genitalia as me. I can feel it. Inconvenient, we seem to be on opposite schedules,” Yuri offered the information freely. Suddenly Jean wished Yuri wasn’t so loose lipped.

            By the end of the night the three of them had drank far too much to drive home. Jean climbed in and Yuri let Isabella have the seat next to her soulmate. The gesture was appreciated but unnecessary. Yuri didn’t live close to his platonic soulmate so he had assumed that the two of them clung to one another like he and Otabek tended to do when they shared the same space. Jean and Isabella had been friends since childhood, the two of them could communicate through mere feelings. He could still remember the little girl with big eyes and soft words that had spoken to him with playful words and a reassuring smile.  It had been obvious that Jean was her soulmate because he had the obnoxious habit of coloring on his skin in marker and writing illegible words all over his body. Isabella’s parents had been at wits end. Jean’s teacher had made the connection. He suspected that Yuri and Otabek had found out in a less controlled environment. To his surprise Yuri looked startlingly tired as their ride drew to a close.  With a hand pressed to Yuri’s spine Jean led him to his apartment and departed. The Russian had a smile on his face when he turned away to walk to his own space just a few doors down.

            Isabella would stay the night. On nights when her fiancé was away for business she always stayed with Jean. Without words they moved around the space and settled their things down on various surfaces. Jean’s jacket was thrown over the back of the bar stool. Isabella’s purse went atop the fridge. Jean’s watch went on the coffee table. Isabella’s heels went in their place to the side of the couch. They had a practiced system that had been establish over twenty years. She was the light in his life when he honestly didn’t have much hope or ambition. Isabella was almost the entire reason he had succeeded at ice skating, music, design, and even life. All his life Jean had suffered from Generalized Anxiety and Bipolar type II disorder. When they were in their teens and he would panic in class Isabella would write him soothing words in her blocky scrawl across her entire arm if need be. It had become tradition to write each other little messages every day when they woke up, so at least one good thing happened every day. Tonight had been pleasant. Walking over to the cabinet Jean set out his medication.  Though he wasn’t supposed to drink with them, he made sure to pace himself. Xanax, Seroquel, and Zoloft were something he took every night so it wouldn’t interfere with his skating. Isabella watched him take the pills and came to stand by him. Jean was the reason she had become a psychologist.

            They sat side by side on the couch, knees bumping. There was curiosity swirling around in the back of her mind. It was always a dangerous thing when Isabella was curious.

            “What is it Bella?” Jean rolled his head to the right to look at her. The medication was making his body feel heavy and fuzzy. Isabella cocked her head to the side and looked thoughtfully at the man she considered her best friend.

            “Well I was just thinking about Yuri,” She spoke softly, “He is very interesting. Though I’m glad he has calmed down in the last few years.” She leaned over and settled her head in his lap. Long raven hair spilling around her like a shadow.

            “To be honest I’m not sure what to make of him. Usually I am pretty good at reading people, you know that. There is something about him that feels off.” Jean stroked her hair gently. Isabella hummed and pursed her lips, a nervous tick.

            “I am debating whether or not he suffers from abandonment issues or was possibly abused. He purposely disassociates from adults but thrives on strict discipline.  Yuri has a soft spot for children it seems.” Jean thought back to how patient he had been with Claire and smiled. That probably made his little sister’s dreams come true. She had been at the Grand Prix finals in Barcelona and had fallen head over heels with Yuri’s skating technique. She knew she could emulate his style due to their similar body types and strengths. Yuri probably didn’t realize it but Claire would have done just about anything to skate like him.

            “Yeah, I noticed it too. Seems to have latched onto my mom though,” He spoke quietly trying not to show his own fondness. Truth was Jean had always admired Yuri’s abilities. The first competition they skated in together Yuri had been beautiful. Agape had been a completely singular routine to witness and Allegro Appassionato had been breath taking. Yuri pushed passed the limits most skaters would just to achieve perfection. The commentators always referred to him as an ever evolving monster but that wasn’t right. Yuri was not a monster, just a perfectionist with exceptional set of skills.

            Jean woke up to a banging on the door. Early morning light filtered through the windows and blue jays cawed noisily. Rubbing his eyes, Jean made his way to the door. Yuri Plisetski stood outside wearing pajama pants and a plain black tee-shirt. There were tears in the corner of his eyes and he was breathing rapidly. One of his hands was braced against the door frame. The way his eyes darted and his chest fell rapidly was terrifying. Jean knew what this was from personal experience. Reaching out Jean wrapped on hand under his knees and the other around his back. Lifting him up, he got Yuri inside and then settled him on the counter. Isabella had come out of the bedroom to see what was going on; as soon as she saw Yuri she was in doctor mode.

            “Yuri do you take medication?” Isabella asked and gripped his hands. Jean was  preparing to go over to the younger man’s apartment to fetch them.

            “I-I do but I ran out two days ago and Victor is having trouble finding a doctor for me here to get them filled.” He took a few shuddering breaths. Isabella stroked her hand over his hair while subtly taking his pulse.

            “What do you take?” She questioned in her soft soothing voice. Yuri wiped tears away from his eyes with his free hand, trying desperately to slow his breathing.

            “Xanax.” Jean was already opening his own bottle before Isabella could tell him to. Handing Yuri the pill and a glass of water, the two watched the little blond down it.

            “Okay, how about me and you go talk on the couch. The psychiatrist in my office can prescribe anything you take but I think you should maybe see one of my colleagues once a week as well. I am going to have Jean call Victor or Yuuri and let them know.” To Jean’s surprise Yuri allowed her to lead him to the couch.

            Jean had gotten Yuuri Katsuki’s information from his mom. Settling in his bedroom he dialed and waited for the kind hearted Japanese man to answer.

            “Hello,” Came the answer of a man too tired. The fourteen hour time difference made Jean cringe but he cleared his throat. Not to mention there was also a brand new baby in the Katsuki-Nikiforov house.

            “Hey Yuuri, it’s Jean Leroy. Hey Yuri woke me up this morning in the middle of a panic attack. Isabella my soulmate, is with him now and she is a psychologist.” Jean heard the shuffle of a phone and Yuuri whispering to Victor.

            “Is he alright?” Yuuri asked sounding dreadfully tired and worried, “Yes we got him calmed down a bit. Is this common?” He asked trying to keep his voice almost clinical. Yuuri hummed in affirmation.

            “Yuri doesn’t do well in new places or around too many people. Please don’t tell him that I told you this but he doesn’t just have anxiety. He has mild PTSD from childhood. We have had trouble locating a doctor that would be willing to take him on,” Yuuri elaborated. Jean sighed, he hoped that their night out hadn’t made the situation worse.

            “Well I should probably go check on them but I promise to keep you informed. I’ll also send over Isabella’s contact information since she’ll be getting him setting him up with one of her colleagues.” Yuuri muttered quiet thank you’s in Jean’s ear and said goodbye. Hanging up the phone, Jean rose to his feet. Yuri’s anxiety had set off his own and clenched and unclenched his fists in an effort to ease the tension in his body.

            Jean padded down the long hallway and out into the living room. Yuri turned his head and caught Jean’s eye. There was an explosion is his vision, blurry flashes. This was color. It was vibrant and overwhelming. When he put two and two together, everything stopped. Yuri was staring at him a wild eyed expression. The first thought that Jean had was the Yuri’s eyes were beautiful. The second though he had was _oh fuck_. Isabella looked between them, taking in their panicked expressions.

            “No,” Yuri whispered. It was uttered in terrified defiance. Jean’s hands came up to cover his mouth in astonishment. Apparently Victor and Yuuri weren’t the only ones unlucky enough to be color blind until a random moment of the universe’s choosing. Four and a half years. Jean had known Yuri for four and a half years and was just now seeing the colors. The little blond was on his feet, anxiety back in full force. “Fix this!” He hissed at Jean. Of course the universe would pick now of all times to let them know they were supposed to be in love. Glassy eyed from the Xanax and flushed from exertion and anxiety Yuri looked ready to bolt or kill him. Jean didn’t feel much better.

            “I need to see my mom,” Was all Jean said and grabbed his coat and the keys to Isabella’s car since they had left his at the bar the night before. The sound of his feet hitting the floor was the only sound he could hear as he ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Jean's a mama's boy and Yuri hates life. Are we really surprised.
> 
> I can't wait to hear from you all.  
> -Avery


	3. Love Is Not A Victory March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “lean in to kiss me  
> in all the places
> 
> where the ache  
> is   
> the most special.”   
> ― Sanober Khan

“Soulmates aren't the ones who make you happiest, no. They're instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.”

-Victoria Erikson

            Yuri always hated being alone. That didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. Silence had been his best friend for years. Depression had held him close at night. Alcohol had numbed any heartache. So yes, Yuri knew how to be alone. Then he had met Otabek. Suddenly the nights he spent alone weren’t so awful anymore. His soulmate was a phone call away; even when Otabek wasn’t close he could feel Otabek sending waves of encouragement and love through his body. It was easier not to be angry. It was easier to express the emotions he was feeling. That didn’t mean the anxiety and depression went away. Otabek offered some relief from those feelings, like the Xanax he popped like candy. As he sat nearly catatonic on the couch next to Isabella, he could feel his soulmate reaching out. He could feel the warmth and panic on Otabek’s end, desperate and unsure. Yuri hadn’t hated himself like this in years.

            The way Jean had looked at him had been…something worse than a knife through the heart. As his world exploded with color, it also exploded his definition of reality. All of the things he had said to Jean over the years, every nasty comment, came back to haunt Yuri. They had been unkind to one another. Jean had a way of digging his claws into every insecurity that Yuri had. His femininity, his anger issues, and his inability to form relationships that actually meant anything. The world had never been kind to Yuri; apparently it wanted his soulmate to hate him too. It was overwhelming to see Jean’s face in color with vivid clarity. It was also clear that his soulmate would never want him, he had bolted. Yuri wished he had somewhere he could run. In Canada he had no one. No one would be able to stop the retched hurt in his chest. Leaving Isabella, he rushed back to his apartment and snagged the bottle of vodka off his shelf. The liquid burned and mingled with the Xanax in his system. The edges of his mind were hazy and softer, slipping away into blank numbness.

            A warm sensation on the inside of his wrist informed Yuri that Otabek had given up on trying to call him and moved onto writing. _Yuri pick up your phone._ The messaged was written with his soulmate’s strong hand and impeccable penmanship. Mind hazy, he reached into his pocket and picked it up the second it rang.

            “What,” He said. Through his hazy mind his own voice sounded foreign and broken. Otabek hummed low in his throat, a habit that Yuri knew meant he was concerned or very worried.

            “Yuri what is going on? Are you drunk?” Otabek low voice and thick accent were familiar and comforting. Tears pricked at the corner of Yuri’s eyes, threatening to spill over his cheeks. Taking a shuddering breath, he tipped his heavy head back against the couch cushion.

            “What color are Jean’s eyes?” Yuri asked quietly. There was a pregnant pause and for a moment he thought Otabek had hung up on him.

            “Blue, Jean’s eyes are blue. They’re darker than Victor’s, more like the darkest blues in the ocean or a sky about to storm. Why?” Otabek answered him even though he was confused. Yuri situated the phone closer to his ear and curled his knees into his chest.

            “Because I saw color for the first time today,” Yuri told him bitterly, “And it’s fucking Jean. Otabek, Jean is my soulmate,” It sounded wrong coming out of his mouth so bitterly. A soulmate was supposed to be the only sure thing in a person’s life. Jean felt like an unanswered question.

            “Well that’s unexpected,” Otabek murmured soothingly, “I’m guessing that’s why you were panicking so severely that I had my own attack.” Yuri cringed he hated that his emotions effected Otabek too. It was inevitable.

            “He ran Beka. As soon as he found out he ran.” Yuri bit his lip and fought back tears. The beginnings of a drawing started to appear on the back of his hand. Soft swirls and twisted curves adorned Yuri’s skin. It was something the two of them did when Yuri was feeling particularly anxious. Otabek would start the drawing and Yuri would finish it, connecting the lines. Yuri’s lines were always harsh and linear while Otabek’s were soft and curvy. Though they were still on the phone neither of them spoke, just drew senseless patterns on their skin. When they were done Yuri felt slightly less like a monster truck had run over his heart.

            “It’s overwhelming at first I know, but you just need to give it time. You and Jean don’t have the best relationship and neither of you suspected this would happen. If anything this is probably the last thing either of you expected. It doesn’t change the fact that he is the other half of your soul Yuri and you are his. Just take it day by day.” Leave it to the captain of emotional stability to make Yuri feel like a child again.

            “I know Beka,” Yuri murmured the combination of booze, emotional distress, and pills leaving him exhausted, “Just wish the universe would give me a break. I am tired of being blindsided and fighting. For once I just wish that something would come to me easily,” Yuri said vulnerably. Otabek shushed him gently and told him to get some rest. When he hung up the phone, the silence was back.

            The hot steam of the shower did Yuri a world of good. The temperature was bordering on too hot, washing away some of the distress he was feeling. It was interesting to look at the shampoo bottle and soap. There were so many colors. None of which he knew the names of. After he washed his face and scrubbed his hair, Yuri exited the shower. Flinging himself down on his large bed, he picked up his phone. Curiously he looked up colors; he found that he liked purple and dark reds. Yellow and orange made his skin crawl. Yuri learned so much in a matter of minutes. Jean’s hair was dark brown, much darker than Otabek’s. Victor’s eyes were ridiculously blue, somehow brighter than the sky. Mila’s hair was vibrant red, auburn as he later found out; reminding him of the bricks that were in the interior of his apartment back in Russia. He had always been able to tell when things were a similar shade but he had never truly known. Yuri had never known how beautiful the world really was. Eyes growing heavy, he fell asleep with his mind heavy and thoughts fragile.

_______________________________________________________________

            “Mom!” Jean called out, gently shutting the door behind him. Claire bounded around the corner, a smile on her face. His little sister had always been able to read him. As soon as she caught the look on his face, Claire turned around and bellowed into the kitchen.

            “Mom! Jean needs you!” Her voice was urgent and Nathalie came around the corner. As soon as his mother saw him, she shooed Claire away and led him to his parent’s bedroom. Nathalie settled on the bed and pulled Jean close. His head tucked against her shoulder and neck. Sobs wracked his body, hard and unforgiving. The world had given him the one person who would likely never love him. Yuri Plisetski was unique and interesting, he also was cold. Yuri Plisetski was unforgiving and bitter.

            “Jean,” Nathalie murmured soothingly against his forehead, “What’s wrong baby?” She tightened her grip around his body, trying to pull him closer. Jean counted back from ten and took deep breaths.

            “I can see color mom,” He murmured and he was still shocked by the variation of the colors he was seeing. Nathalie stiffened and leaned back to gaze down at him.

            “Then why are you acting like the world is ending?” She smoothed his messy morning hair out of his eyes. “Who was it?” She asked him. All Jean could think about was the look on Yuri’s face as the came to their simultaneous realizations. It had been unguarded and vulnerable. Jean had seen Yuri for the first time in that moment. He had been sure that the Yuri he had seen while drunk was who the Russian really was, softer but still hardened. Jean couldn’t have been more wrong. When they had looked at each other across the room Yuri had been more than soft, he was fragile. He was more broken than Jean had ever realized, like a shattered stained glass window that someone had carelessly tried to glue back together. Jean was good at breaking things, not putting them back together.

            “Mom, it’s Yuri.” Nathalie inhaled sharply and sighed. She knew the way her son viewed Yuri, as competition. The two had a bitter rivalry that had been born from an initial dislike of each other. Nathalie understood that Jean’s world might as well be ending and what he thought about the pretty Russian was changing.

            For nearly an hour he stayed close to his mother until Nathalie sat up and stroked his cheek lovingly.

            “How about I make you some hot chocolate?” She asked. It had always cheered Jean up as a child when she made it for him. The two made their way to the kitchen, Jean’s hand intertwined with hers. Claire poked her head out of her room on their way by just to check on him. When she was satisfied, she disappeared back to where she came. Settling down at the table Jean looked at his hands. There was the sensation of water hitting his skin, Yuri was in the shower. It had to be incredibly hot for him to feel it as vividly as he was. So much made sense. Why in August of last year he had collapsed during practice with a searing pain in his ankle, Yuri’s torn ligament. Why he always had bruises and bumps from skating accidents. Why he felt the random twinges of sore muscles on his days off. It had always been Yuri. It would always be Yuri.  Fate had tied them together, for better or for worse.

            The hot coco contained a healthy amount of butterscotch schnapps, a little different than how he had it as a child. The warm beverage settled him.

            “Don’t worry about practice tomorrow,” His mother said gently, rubbing the back of his neck. “Take the day to reflect and have a conversation with Yuri. The two of you need to get some closure before either of you step foot in the rink.” Jean knew his mother had a point and he fully intended to listen to her. Yuri on the other hand would probably be a different story.

            “What if he hates me?” Jean clutched his mug, “Mom, I have mocked him for years. I pushed and pushed and now that might mean he won’t want me.” Nathalie sighed heavily. Tilting his head up, she met her son’s sad eyes.

            “The universe does things sometimes that don’t make sense. It decided to wait to reveal that Yuri was your soulmate until now. Sure it would have been easier if you two had always known, but maybe that’s not what either of you needed at the time. Maybe now you two are better equipped to deal with this. Maybe you’ll never understand it. Jean, the thing is a soulmate can be so much more than a lover or best friend. They can be the push you need. They can be the unstoppable force of nature that pushes you further. A soulmate isn’t something so black and white as attraction or lust. They are everything, even if it’s not necessarily what you want,” The conviction in his mother’s voice was startling. There were few things that got her fired up. Jean finished off his mug and stood. Nathalie followed him to the front door and embraced him tightly.

            “Thanks mom,”

            The walk to his apartment took him past Yuri’s. With a great deal of self-control he walked past it. Unlocking the door, he stepped into the empty space he called home. A note was on the fridge in Isabella’s handwriting. _Jean, Nate got back this afternoon and picked me up. We went and got your car, it’s in your parking space out back. We will be by later to collect my vehicle. I hope you found some peace of mind. Xoxo Isabella._ Jean had completely forgotten about his car and was thankful that Isabella’s soulmate had gotten back into town. Picking up the closest pen, he rolled up his sleeve. _Thank you._ It was all he could think to write. Warmth washed over him as Isabella responded to him with feeling. No matter how far away she was, Jean could always feel her. Exhausted he set out his pills and made the decision to take an extra Xanax. An early night would probably be a good idea, even if it was only four in the afternoon. As he walked to the bedroom, he tugged his shirt over his head. Jean put a hand firmly over his heart, trying to quiet the restless beat. To his surprise he felt the action mirrored across his skin. Yuri was touching the same spot, a simple message. I’m here.

            Not bothering to put a shirt on, Jean walked down the hall. Hesitantly he knocked on the door and it opened just as hesitantly. Yuri stood in front of him looking impossibly small. The white tee-shirt he was wearing was see through from where his wet hair fell against the fabric.

            “Mom said not to worry about coming to practice tomorrow,” Jean uttered, “Said we should probably talk.” Yuri nodded and turned his back to him, gesturing for him to follow. Once inside the atmosphere was incredibly tense, awkward even.  

            “Did you know that your eyes are blue?” Yuri asked him quietly, his voice was so much softer than normal. Jean raised his eyes to glance over the smaller man. Everything about his posture screamed anxiety and defense. The walls Yuri loved were up but contained none of their usual strength.

            “My mom told me when I was little, but I haven’t looked in the mirror to check yet.” There was something about the way Yuri had asked him that was incredibly tender.

            “Are you mad?” Yuri blurted out and Jean was taken aback. The blond slapped a hand over his mouth, clearly regretting his choice of words. Whatever Yuri was expecting Jean to say was clearly very different from what he got.

            “How could I be mad?” Jean answered and lowered his eyes to the ground, “I’m surprised and little anxious. But I am not mad that you’re my soulmate. If anything I am just thinking back to everything I’ve ever felt from you and I am terribly sad I didn’t realize it sooner.” Yuri outright recoiled from him. The shock that echoed across his features was startling.

            “I think you’re forgetting that we have spent years resenting each other,” Yuri said dryly, pulling the walls back up. “That the two of us have rarely had a kind word for one another. That’s not what I would consider an excellent start to a relationship,” The words were said so cautiously that Jean realized Yuri was expecting rejection and preparing himself for the worst.

            “Do you want a relationship?” Jean asked him, keeping his voice soft and even. Yuri’s expressive eyes got glassy and distant, no longer looking at him. It was clear that there was more to this conversation than mixed up feelings, there were scars that hadn’t healed; those scars had not come from Jean but they were effecting Yuri like they were fresh wounds.

            “I don’t know,” Yuri answered tersely, “I don’t know if I want a relationship. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to deal with any of this.” He gestured between himself and Jean. Stepping forward, Jean reached out hesitantly and caught Yuri’s wrist. The blond froze and raised his eyes to meet Jean’s.

            “Neither do I,” Jean muttered, “I’m stumbling into this one blind, but I know I want to try. We can take it one day at a time. Yuri I don’t expect you to fall in love with me in one day. I don’t expect you to want to kiss me or have sex with me right now, maybe even never. Those things would be great, but I want to take things slow. Take time to learn about you, what you like and don’t. We don’t have to do anything but try.” Yuri bit his lip and nodded. There was still so much left unsaid. There was so much neither of them could say. Yet there was an understanding. Neither of them said a word but they both knew that things were going to change between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I am so sorry for not posting sooner. My job has been keeping me extremely busy and I am also sick as a dog at the moment.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter even if it is a bit somber. All your comments have been wonderful and I always enjoy reading them. Thank you soso much!
> 
> -Avery


	4. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stop thinking about  
> The bullets from my mouth  
> I love the things you hate about yourself  
> Just finished a daydream  
> Who were you trying to be
> 
> No one wants you when you have no heart and  
> I’m sitting pretty in my brand new scars and  
> You’ll never know if you don’t ever try again  
> So let’s try"  
> -Hallelujah, Panic at the disco

 

“Maybe I am hateful. Maybe I ruined your life. Maybe I'm the devil, and the worst thing that ever happened to you, and a million other awful things... But did you ever stop to think that even if I am a monster... I might be your soulmate, anyway?”

-Julie Johnson

            There were a million different things that Yuri could have told Jean about. There were so many things that sat on the tip of his tongue, truths that had long been hidden. It took a conscious effort to be open, to be honest. A part of Yuri wanted to lie. The truth about his life was ugly. Jean lead a glamorous life; the Canadian had graduated college, had a number one single, owned his own business, was a repeat medalist in multiple skating competitions, and had an amazing family. Yuri in comparison was trailing rather far behind.

            “I never finished school,” Yuri told Jean and sipped on his coffee. The two of them sat in a secluded café that was tucked away near the skating rink. Looking up, Jean cocked his head to the side as if confused.

            “Why not?” He asked and studied Yuri closely, “You’re intelligent and attentive,” Jean spoke gently. Huffing, Yuri fiddled with a stray piece of hair. It embarrassed him honestly.

            “Skating, my entire life as a teenager was skating.” He set the mug of black coffee down on the table. It had consumed him completely. It was all that really mattered to him. Now that Yuri was older, he wanted so much more. He wanted to learn, love, and live a life filled with excitement. Skating was still important but there were so many other things that could mean something. Looking thoughtful Jean hummed.

            “You could still go to school Yuri. You’re young and like I said very smart.” Snorting, Yuri arched a brow at Jean.

            “And how did you figure that out?” The blond was curious; the fact was Yuri was usually the smartest person in the room. Half the time he would change his speech patterns to fit the person he was talking to. It had been a little astonishing that Jean was one of the few people who could keep up with him. Maybe that was why he sometimes enjoyed their bickering.

            “I’ve been around you for years. In those years I’ve had a lot of time to watch your interactions with other people. You always think before you speak. You are constantly using advanced vocabulary then correcting yourself. You analyze a room and the people who are in it. All around you are just good gauging where people sit in the spectrum of intelligence. You’re actually harder on the people who can understand you like Victor and Yuuri.” It brought him some odd sense of pleasure to know that Jean observed him close enough to learn his habits. When he was a child school had been boring and Yuri had acted out because no one could keep up.

            “I’m hard on people who are intelligent because I expect more from them. People don’t realize it but Victor is actually a genius; unfortunately he doesn’t act like it,” Yuri commented. It was then that he realized that Yuuri and Victor didn’t know about Jean. The two idiots would probably be pretty offended if they found out from Otabek or Mila. It would be a mess worthy of the most clueless couple.

            The thing about Yuri was that he had stayed relevant and active in the skating world out of spite. Just like Victor all those years ago, he had lost his inspiration. Agape had kick started his career. Allegro appassionato had given him a way to channel his anger into something beautiful. But it had been spite and pure talent that had put him on the podium for the first time. Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t allowed to retire. Jean wasn’t allowed to beat him again. The world wasn’t allowed to call him the fairy of Russian as an insult any longer. For years he had clung to that spite, that feeling control. He clung to it like a life line. Sure there were a few people he let in past his brilliant walls of apathy but they were few and far between. Jean was trying to wiggle his way to who he really was and it was honestly terrifying and exhilarating. There were few people who recognized Yuri for who and what he really was. Somehow despite all odds, Jean was one of those people. He saw who he was and was still trying. It was clear that somewhere down the line there had been a misstep on Yuri’s part. Jean Leroy was remarkably similar to Yuri in so many ways. Somewhere along the line he had contracted feelings. Needless to say he was more than a little salty about that. Somewhere the creator of the universe was laughing at this cosmic joke.

            Quebec was beautiful, and the more of it Yuri saw he loved it even more. Well, loved it was too strong of a word. It didn’t suck was more appropriate. After they finished at the café, Jean took him around the city.  The Canadian showed him where he had attended school, where he liked to shop, and where the best bakery in the city was. Though Jean did most of the talking, Yuri found himself enjoying it. The way Jean spoke about his home that was so filled with patriotic joy that made the whole tour remarkably more enjoyable. As they drove past a beautiful cathedral a ridiculous question popped into Yuri’s mind.

            “Are you religious?” He asked Jean. The Canadian man smiled softly and untucked a small cross from underneath his shirt.

            “Catholic,” Jean answered simply. “What about you?” Religion was a complicated matter for Yuri. He could reconcile his personal beliefs with those he had been raised with. However that didn’t mean he didn’t believe there was a higher power out there.

            “If you ask me in front of my grandpa, I’m Russian Orthodox. Privately I guess you could consider me agnostic.” It had been a long time since he had stepped foot inside a church. It would be likely be years before he ever did it again. The faith he had was harder to define than what the church was willing to accept, especially in Russia. Unlike Jean, the blond was only patriotic when the Olympics came around or when directly questioned by a reporter. The things he loved about his country were small. The sound of the gulls was comforting. The sound of Mila speaking his native language was comforting. The fascist regime that held on too tightly to power left something to be desire. Even though Canada was filled with idiots, Yuri didn’t hate it as much as he had expected to.

            They finished their day out and made their way back to their apartment complex. The day had been busy and left Yuri feeling a little drained. As he stopped to unlock the door to his apartment, Jean’s fingertips brushed along the back of his hand. Starting, he looked up into those lovely blue eyes.

            “Goodnight Yuri,” His voice too soft, to warm. “I had a wonderful time today.” It was how lovers talked to one another. A blush spread over Yuri’s cheeks and he ducked his chin to his chest. There were no coy smiles. There was no cautious flirtation. They way Jean spoke was matter of fact.

            “Me too,” He murmured and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Yuri didn’t meet Jean’s eyes again and instead threw open his door. It took a considerable amount of restraint not to slam it shut in panic. There was warmth he hadn’t felt for another person before. It spread from his cheeks down to his chest. It curled up warmly against his heart. This heat was so unusual that Yuri clutched his chest for a moment. There was no need to panic. He knew exactly what this was, even if he wouldn’t admit it. If it was out in the open things would quickly come to an end. Yuri was strong, but not strong enough to let Jean see how awful of a person he really was. It was easy to be broken when you were alone. Jean had complicated things.

___________________________________________________

            Yuri was a stained glass window. Jean decided that while he stood staring blankly at the shower wall. The beautiful man had been broken, shattered into countless pieces. Then someone had tried to put him back together. Whoever tried had been careless. Sure Yuri was well put together. He was poised and elegant when he was on the ice or talking to the media. Yet when Jean had caressed their hands together, it had felt off. Like Yuri didn’t understand that the touch was his and his alone. The blond had clearly been astonished by his touch, the way he had spoken. Yuri was a stained glass window, made of broken pieces and so very beautiful. There was a part of Jean that wanted to dig. There was a part of him that wanted to uncover what had made Yuri this way and it erase it from his mind, erase it from the surface of his skin. There was a part of him that knew that the little Russian would never let him do such a thing. Yuri’s pain didn’t belong to Jean, nor did his body, and most certainly not his mind. He didn’t owe Jean a damn thing, least of all an explanation.

            Something woke Jean up at three in the morning. There was a burning tear against the knuckles of his left hand and a dull ache in the left. This wasn’t the first time either. It was however the first time that he could stagger out of bed, slide into the hall, and pound his fist against his soulmate’s door. He may not require an explanation for Yuri’s skittish behavior, but his knuckles he was more than willing to ask about. The door swung open and the blond looked him up and down. Jean did much the same. Yuri was dressed in a pale green tank-top and athletic shorts.  The palms and knuckles of both his hands were wrapped tightly.

            “Why are you punching things?” Jean grumbled, voice gritty with sleep. Big green eyes blinked up at him as though he was trying to comprehend Jean’s words.

            “Because I’m frustrated,” Yuri answered him quietly. Sighing, Jean slumped against the door frame. If there was one thing he needed, it was sleep. The fact that he also took strong mood stabilizing drugs was also not helping the situation.

            “Allow me to rephrase that question. Why are you punching things at three in the morning? Why are you punching something so hard your knuckles are bleeding?” Yuri looked down at his hand as if he was just now noticing the blood seeping through the tape. Jean realized then that Yuri hadn’t noticed.

            “Sorry,” The Russian muttered and unraveled the tape from his hands gingerly, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” He offered the apology rather sheepishly. They had practice in the morning and sunrise was a mere few hours away. There was a warm bed calling his name. However his soulmate’s obvious distress had his instincts pulling his reins in a different direction.

            “I can keep you company if you want,” Jean murmured, still half asleep. “It’s unlikely I will be able to sleep if you can’t.” For a moment Yuri weighed the offer, head lulling to the side. The curve of his lips turned down into a soft frown. There was tension between them. It wasn’t the tension they experienced at competitions…it was far more dangerous than that. Jean knew that Yuri believed if he invited Jean in, they’d be stepping over an entirely new line.

             They ended up on Yuri’s bed. Jean gently dabbed the blood off of Yuri’s knuckled, his own hands hurting. The sting of the antiseptic had them both hissing in discomfort. Jean made a split second decision, a distraction.

            “If you went to college what would you study?” He asked. Yuri looked up from the sting on his hand. The blond blushed and even looked a little bashful.

            “I’d want to be a social worker, even if I’m not the most friendly human being.” He told the Canadian, there was a smile playing with the outline of his lips. “Maybe study abroad in France or America.” That shouldn’t have blindsided Jean as much as it did. It was just he never pictured Yuri as someone who would want to travel. Jean could see him as a social worker, tough and gritty when he needed. Treating children with the gentle kindness he seemed to only afford them.

            “You’d be good at it,” Jean spoke softly, “Claire adores you. You’d make an excellent teacher as well.” That caused Yuri to gawk in horror. Letting out a sleepy chuckle, Jean leaned back and his eyelids fluttered. It was getting very had to stay awake. Just as his mind began to wander, curious fingers trailed gently up his arm. The touch was exploratory in an innocent way, almost child-like. The fingers turned into a palm pressed lightly on his shoulder.

            “I’m not good at this,” Yuri made a sound, one that Jean was slowly growing more and more familiar with. It was reserved for situations that made Yuri feel uncomfortable or disappointed with himself. The last thing Jean wanted was for the little blond to associate touching him with negative emotions.

            “No, you aren’t bad at this. You’re just inexperienced, there’s a big difference between the two.” Jean opened his eyes to see Yuri biting his lip.

            With a purpose now in mind, Jean grasped Yuri’s wrist. Thumb resting where Yuri’s palm met his wrist, Jean guided those unsure hands to his body. Exploration without judgement would be key. Sure he could be the one touching Yuri, teaching him what felt good but that wasn’t what was needed right then.

            “You can touch me Yuri. My body is just as much yours as it is mine. I was serious about taking this as slow as you need to.” There was a silent moment before the tension subsided. Fingers trailed along the edge of his jaw, carded through his hair, and traced down his nose. Hands firmly memorized the curve of his biceps and filed away the scars that decorated visible skin for a later time.

            “Do you…want to touch me?” Yuri asked so softly that Jean barely realized he had spoken. Sitting up slowly as not to spook Yuri, Jean tilted his chin up. Their eyes met and Jean realized just how powerful the pull of a soulmate really was. There was so much he wanted to do with Yuri, not all of it as innocent as the touches they were currently sharing.

            “More than anything chaton,” He replied candidly and didn’t bother to hide the desire in his voice. Nervously Yuri crossed his legs and awaited whatever touches Jean decided to give him. It started at the surprisingly dainty line of Yuri’s collar bone, tracing the winged bones respectfully. It was painful to keep the need out of his touches. Jean knew that this level of intimacy was gift that hadn’t been given without a small level of trust. The pinch between Yuri’s brow drew his attention next, such as harsh expression. The two fingers that traced the line had it disappearing, the entirety of the Russian’s face softening in response.

            “I’m going to do something stupid.” Was all Yuri said before leaning forward and pressing a tentative kiss to Jean’s lips. Just like the touches had been, the kiss was naïve and questioning. It was also curious and inquisitive. It was perfect, just like the boy sitting in front of him. When Yuri pulled away there was a blush decorating his cheeks. Jean sighed happily. Then Yuri gave him the biggest surprise of the night. He pulled down the teal comforter and hesitantly patted the bed.

            “Yuri?” Jean managed but was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. The pinch was back between the brows and Yuri got instantly prickly.

            “I’m not asking you to fuck me. I just don’t want to sleep alone tonight. If your hands wander, you be on the floor faster than you can blink,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I am still recovering from my sickness, pretty sure it's the plague.
> 
> Thank you all for the amazing support as always. Hugs and kisses..  
> -Avery


	5. Just Let Me Love For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love can be love  
> Anything you want I'll give it up  
> Lips, lips I kiss  
> Bite me while I taste your fingertips"  
> -"Talking Body", Tove Lo

“Wrap your mind around my thoughts as I wrap my soul around your heart.” 

-Munia Khan

            Jean learned a very important lesson lying next to Yuri. The little blond was like an octopus, limbs curling around him…the other thing was that he was blanket hog. It didn’t matter much since he clung to Jean’s chest, sharing warmth. Golden hair tickled his nose and it smelled of tea tree oil and mint. Being the first one awake, he looked at the time. It was still early and thinking of how much sleep he had gotten, Jean texted his mother. **Yuri and I need the day to work some things out. We will be early to practice tomorrow.**  Satisfied, he adjusted Yuri in his arms so that the blond was resting with his back to Jean’s chest. For a while he just drifted in and out of sleep until Yuri shot up like a spring. The baby hair’s around Yuri’s round face stuck out every which way.

            “What time is it?” He asked Jean and blinked sleepily at the clock. An alarmed noise left his throat when he registered how late it was. Shushing him softly, he tugged Yuri back down.

            “I let mom know that we wouldn’t be coming to practice a couple of hours ago. We have the day to relax and enjoy ourselves.” For a very rare moment the two of them were completely silent. Between them the only thing exchanged was warmth and peaceful comfort. Like the night before, it was a level of intimacy that Jean adored because it didn’t want for anything more in that moment. That all went to shit the second that Yuri’s phone blared a rather unattractive noise that somewhat resembled that of a dying bird.

            Picking up the phone, Yuri mumbled a sleepy hello and Jean could hear Victor’s loud and enthusiastic voice on the other end of the line.

            “Oh, so you found out about that huh?” Yuri uttered, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. Jean wondered for a moment what on earth he was hiding from his coach. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together seconds later. “Consider me not telling you Jean was my soulmate pay backs for the hot springs on ice incident. And yes, I am still bitter about that.” Jean snorted and held out his hand, motion for Yuri to pass him the phone. The blond did so and went back to lazily lounging in Jean’s arm, cold nose pressed against his neck.

            “Hello Victor,” Jean greeted, “Sorry I wasn’t aware that Yuri hadn’t told you.” The older Russian laughed and he could picture the look on his face. Victor had always been beautiful. Jean had skated next to him for years and had found him to be so very much like Yuri. Even though he wasn’t aggressive or standoffish, Victor always kept everyone at arm’s length. Very few people had the privilege of getting close enough to him to be considered a friend. Both Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetski had earned that privilege. Maybe it had something to do with the name.

            “Eh, it’s alright. Just glad to hear that our little Yuri finally has someone to take care of him,” Victor chuckled and he heard Yuuri scoff in the background. Beside him the blond’s eyes opened.

            “I can still hear you two!” Yuri growled loudly. That drew out Yuuri Katsuki’s gentle windy laugh. Immediately that softened Yuri considerably. The two of them had an odd relationship to say the least but Jean didn’t mind. Anything that made his soulmate happy was enough for him.

            “Just be careful with little Yuri,” Victor spoke softly, voice dropping from sweet to volatile. The threat was clear to Jean, but it was unneeded.  There was always a draw between soulmates. It was powerful and tied two people together for life, like chains binding them together. Jean could never intentionally hurt Yuri, that he knew for certain. It didn’t bother him that Victor was being overly protective. In fact it was reassuring.

            “No need to worry Victor.” Jean ran his fingers through Yuri’s wavy locks, “I don’t think I could bear to be without him,” he spoke assuredly because to him it was a fact. Victor hummed and Jean passed the phone back to Yuri. The two spoke to one another in Russian from there on out. Usually the language sounded harsh in Yuri’s mouth. In contrast it sounded softer today, less accusatory. While they spoke Jean pressed butterfly kisses to the back of Yuri’s neck, barely there brushes of lips. This was his home now.

            Eventually the two of them slithered out of bed. They made coffee, milling about the kitchen. Neither of them spoke, occasionally bumping their shoulders together. The warm aroma of coffee and mint that had to belong to Yuri filtered through the living room. The mid-morning light poured in through the blinds, little shadows bounced around the spacious area. It was all together a perfect morning.

            “I need to ask a question,” Yuri muttered, “And I am uncomfortable asking it.” Jean turned, coffee mug in hand. For a moment the little blond rocked back and forth. Whether Yuri was deciding how to phrase something or he just genuinely didn’t know how to ask, Jean had no idea how to approach the situation. It was unusual for Yuri not to be rather blunt, if not outright rude at times.

            “Whatever it is, I promise you that there will be no judgement.” Jean leaned back against the granite countertop and waited.

            “Can I kiss you again?” Yuri asked hesitantly, voice sounding so small. “Because last night was the first time I’ve ever felt…warm and fluttery with someone else. It felt good, really good, and I would like to do it again,” Jean was blushing as was Yuri by the end of his explanation. Even though Yuri had told him that he had never experienced attraction before, Jean didn’t consider what that would mean in regards to their relationship dynamic. There was innocence to the way Yuri had kissed him, so unsure and tentative. It hadn’t even crossed Jean’s mind that the kiss might have been the first time Yuri had genuinely wanted to initiate physical intimacy.

            “Yuri Plisetski, you can kiss me whenever you want. We can experiment whenever you want. We can find out what you like and what you don’t. There is no need to rush this and if you don’t like something just tell me and we will stop.” Jean cupped Yuri’s cheeks and smiled, “We have the rest of our lives to figure this out. Since it is the two of us, I bet there will be a couple of hiccups along the way. We will probably even fight. But right now I’m going to kiss you, remember to stop me if you get uncomfortable.” Jean leaned in, hands still cupping Yuri’s cheeks, and pressed their lips together. Yuri responded beautifully, letting out a shaky breath and stepped closer into Jean’s space. Removing his hands from Yuri’s face, Jean tangled them in his hair and deepened the kiss. It was a little sloppy but there was a sincere amount of affection poured into it. In Jean’s mind that made it perfect.

_______________________________________________________________

            Things got heated. Yuri wasn’t really sure how or when it happened. One minute it was soft and sweet. Before he could even register what had happened, he was sitting on the countertop with Jean between his legs. The hands that were in his hair were no longer just there, they tugged. It sent shivers of something very close to need or want…Yuri wasn’t particularly sure where the line started to fade together. Lips trailed over his neck. Teeth grazed his collarbone. Then something wonderful happened. Jean sucked a dark mark into his skin; it sent a wave of heat coursing through his body, settling at the base of his spine. It was like burning. Yuri would have been content to let it consume him, swallow him alive. If this was attraction, pleasure, then he didn’t understand why he had never wanted this before. Even when he pleasured himself it was never this good.

            “Doing okay chaton?” Jean breathed into the crook of his neck. Yuri leaned back and met Jean’s eyes. Pupils dilated and hair mussed, Jean looked beautiful. Apparently it wasn’t just him feeling the effects. One of Jean’s hands rested against his chest, fingers almost grasping at Yuri’s shirt. Was this what being turned on felt like? If it was, he wanted so much more than a kiss.

            “Yes.” Yuri bit his lip as Jean’s hands shifted to grip his thighs, “I feel…it feels good,” He tried to voice. The Canadian ducked his head and pressed another kiss to Yuri’s collarbone.

            “It should,” Jean told him, “I want everything we do together to feel good. That being said, I think we should stop for today,” Yuri let out a whine at his words. A kiss was pressed to the corner of his lips and Jean closed his eyes. The Russian realized that Jean was holding back, he wanted Yuri.

            “Why?” Yuri asked and reached out to trace his hands down Jean’s chest.

            “Because,” He sucked in a breath as Yuri’s hands trailed to the waist band of his pajama pants, “If you keep going, I won’t want to stop. You are very very tempting right now and I want to wait before we do anything else.” Yuri pulled his hands away. He could tell that Jean was trying to tell him to stop without actually saying the word.

            “Alright,” Yuri agreed and hopped off the counter.

            “Okay,” Jean answered gently. In that moment Yuri had never felt more loved.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh still sick and I just moved into my new apartment. Please forgive how infrequently I am posting and responding to comments. I love you guys for sticking with me.
> 
> Look forward to hearing from you all!  
> -Avery


	6. Darker side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren't ready.

“Goodbye to the roses on your street  
Goodbye to the paintings on your wall  
Goodbye to the children we'll never meet  
And the ones we left behind  
And the ones we left behind  
I'm somewhere, you're somewhere  
I'm nowhere, you're nowhere  
You're somewhere, you're somewhere  
I could go there but I don't”  
-“Santa Monica Dream”, Angus and Julia Stone

      The ice had always been kind to Yuri. There was something about the cold that always made him feel at home. For lack of a better word, it was safe haven. Even though there were very few people he would admit it to, Yuri was a very anxious person. The only time he felt genuinely at peace was when he had absolute control. The ice was something that demanded control over one’s body and mind. Yuri had sacrificed his body and mind to it for over a decade. Jean was similar to the ice. The Canadian skater demanded his attention, his time. Just like he gave to the ice, Yuri began to give to Jean. It was all consuming.  
      Nathalie was watching like a hawk, her own skates digging into the ice. Occasionally she would dart out and correct Yuri’s stance or call out observations to Jean. There was something so warm and homey about her presence. There was a routine now. Honestly Yuri was thankful for it. A strict schedule meant that there was little time for fooling around with Jean. Those heated kisses and hungry touches had left him hungry for more. It was the first time that something like that had fazed him. Somehow he found himself wondering if Jean felt the same. For him it was all flame and burning, the passion setting him on edge. It was so new and foreign that Yuri didn’t quite know what to do with it.  
      At the end of practice they left the rink together. Jean’s hand was pressed possessively to his lower back. Even through his thick sports jacket, he could feel the heat of his soulmate’s skin. There was that little monster tickling the back of his mind with self-doubt. It was clear to Yuri that Jean wanted him. Yuri wanted Jean too, but there was a problem. Everything they had done so far had felt very very good. That being said, sex scared Yuri. It was only a matter of time before Jean discovered this and left. Otabek had told him that he needed to have an open conversation with Jean. Yuri was doing the exact opposite of that. The walls that he had slowly been letting down were coming back up, a little weaker than before.  
      On his back and legs wrapped around Jean’s waist, Yuri pulled him down for a kiss. It was utterly filthy the way Jean asserted his dominance over Yuri. Like his skating, the older man commanded respect and had complete mastery over his movements. Yuri on the other hand felt sloppy and unsure. It didn’t seem to matter much, not when their bodies were pressed together like this. So he let his head go blank. Let instincts lead him. Jean pulled away instantly, eyes searching Yuri’s face. Sitting back, he settled Yuri gently in his lap.  
      “Are you okay?” Jean asked and panic thrummed through Yuri’s veins. The inside of his throat was raw with words he wanted to speak but couldn’t get out. Jean reached up and pushed Yuri’s hair out of his eyes. There was a part of him that wanted to run, to get away.  
      “I’m fine,” Yuri uttered and leaned in to kiss Jean again. A hand on his chest stopped him. Those beautiful blue eyes were staring at him with something that Yuri could only describe as worry. Apparently Jean was far better at reading him than he had originally thought.  
      “No, you’re not. You were fine for a minute there then something happened. Was it me being on top of you? Are we going to fast?” Yuri’s stomach was resting in his throat. Of course Jean noticed him distancing himself. Of course he’d blame himself.  
      “No,” Yuri closed his eyes, “I’m just having some anxiety. It’s nothing you did, I promise. Everything you’ve done has felt amazing, absolutely taken my breath away,” He tried to explain without divulging too much. Jean searched his face for some sort of answer.  
      “I can give you space if you need it?” Jean suggested and his tone was soft and understanding. Yuri shook his head vehemently.  
      “Can we just lie down for a while,” He asked, “I just want you close to me,”  
_____________________________________________________________  
      Jean was more than concerned. He was terrified. Something had happened that made Yuri insecure. It had been written all over his face and had infected his body language. Lying next to him in bed, Jean ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair. The soft snores and deep breaths meant that the little blond had found dream land. In their time together Jean had learned something important. Yuri Plisetski had an incredibly dark side. It wasn’t the anger or the outbursts that lead him to that conclusion. It was the quiet moments. The ones where Yuri would grow too silent, his eyes getting glassy and distant. It was like he was visiting some far off place that Jean couldn’t follow him. For the majority of his life Yuri had been the golden child, talented beyond belief. But if you took the time to look below the surface, you could find scars that ran deep.  
_____________________________________________________________  
      Otabek loved Yuri more than pretty much anyone on the planet. Mila was the only other person to achieve that kind of respect and love from him. The thing was Otabek had been connected to Yuri for years. That meant he knew all the subtle changes in their empathic bond. There was something wrong. There was the distinct bitterness that Otabek had associated with teenage Yuri. Yet there was something more sinister to it as well. Anxiety and emptiness. Around the edges of all that nastiness was the warmth of something new. Something like love. It was not secret that Otabek did not particularly like Jean Leroy. But he wasn’t nearly as surprised as he should have been when he found out that Jean was Yuri’s soulmate. What was surprising was the fact that Jean was calling him…very late at night.  
Without reading into it too much, Otabek answered the phone.  
      “I don’t know what to do,” Jean said from the other end of the line. His voice was hushed and cracked with emotion.  
      “Is Yuri alright?” Otabek asked him. Jean sighed softly into the microphone. The pause made him worry.  
      “No, I don’t think he is. You’ve known him for years and so maybe you can understand it better than I can. We were doing fine, opening up to one another. We got a little physical the other day and now…he’s shut down. I’ve told him that we don’t have to go fast, that I don’t care about any of that.” Otabek hummed low in his throat. Surprisingly Jean had handled the situation well considering he didn’t have all the information available. There was certain things that Yuri didn’t tell people until he trusted them completely. They were things that Otabek knew could possibly change the way Jean viewed Yuri.  
      “Yuri has always burned brighter than anyone else. Whether it was skating or his personal life. He is an all or nothing kind of person, the kind that throws himself into things completely.” Otabek rested back against the pillow and looked over at Mila’s sleeping form. “That also means that his flame burns out rather quickly. When he is wandering into unfamiliar territory, Yuri has a habit of shutting himself off from the people he cares about. Even though you’ve told him you’re okay with going slow, he might not see it that way. With him, you have to be blunt. You have to be perfectly clear with your expectations,” Otabek finished his little speech. On the other end of the line Jean took a shaky little breath.  
      “Thank you,” Jean spoke vulnerably. Otabek hummed once more and hung up the phone. Maybe Jean wasn’t the worst after all.  
_____________________________________________________________  
When Yuri awakened the first thing he noticed was Jean’s arm slung over his waist. The second thing he noticed was the soft sound of humming above him. Groggily, Yuri sat up and rubbed his eyes.  
      “Did you sleep well?” Jean asked. The light filtering through the curtains was dulled, meaning he had slept through the afternoon and into the evening. Yuri nodded, golden hair falling messily into his eyes. “I know I haven’t said much but you know I’m happy you’re my soulmate right?” It was such an odd question that Yuri was actually struck speechless for a second.  
      “And I’m glad you’re mine,” He replied once he managed to get his wits about him. Jean offered him a half smile that made Yuri’s inside do a somersault.  
      “So you know I’m in this until the end, regardless of what happens?” Yuri’s eyes shot down to the bedspread to avoid meeting Jean’s gaze, “Regardless of what you say or do, I want to be by your side. I want to know all the not so nice things about you. I want to grow old with you. I want to watch you skate. I want to see you succeeded. So please don’t push me out, because you were meant to be my everything. So just let me be yours. That’s all I ask.” Tears pricked at the corners of Yuri’s eyes but he nodded. Slowly he tucked himself into Jean’s lap and simply breathed in the smell of his skin.  
      “Just stay,” Yuri murmured, “Just stay with me for as long as you can bear.” There weren’t any words to adequately describe how the two of them were feeling. So they stayed there in bed, clinging to one another. Both them were afraid, afraid to love and to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me Yuri has always seemed anxious in a different way than Yuuri Katsuki. I think that his anger issues as well as inappropriate behavior are a reflection of his insecurities. I also see him as a star that burns too bright, ready to explode.
> 
> Thank you all for bearing with me. I went to the hospital the other day and found out I was fighting a nasty case of pneumonia. Luckily I seem to be on the mend!
> 
> I can't wait to hear from you!  
> -Avery


	7. In the End I Am Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i do not want to have you  
> to fill the empty parts of me  
> i want to be full on my own
> 
> i want to fill so complete  
> i could light a whole city  
> and then  
> i want to have you  
> cause the two of  
> us combined  
> could set  
> it on fire”   
> ― Rupi Kaur

     Yuri skated a figure eight, Jean following close behind. _He’s always right behind me._ The tall Canadian skated closer running a hand over his forearm. It was a simple touch, asking for nothing in return. It had been this way for years, Yuri realized. The two of them were always interlocked in a dance; the only thing different was who was in the lead. For a long while it had been Jean, tugging Yuri along for a ride. Then Yuri had slowly slipped ahead, pushing back. Despite that, Jean followed. Jean watched him grow and learn. It was only now that Yuri realized he enjoyed the dance. It was now that he realized that the emptiness, the anger, were absent. It was now that Yuri realized what Victor had meant when he said your soulmate was something only you personally could understand. Jean had not always been what he wanted, but he had been just what Yuri needed. _I want to stay like this forever. Just let me keep this feeling, let me keep him._

     They walked down the street, the cool air brushing over fevered skin. Little golden curls fell loose from the bun atop Yuri’s head, falling in his eyes. Jean stood next to him, not quite holding Yuri’s hand. Their knuckles brushed sending jolts down his spine. This was what he hadn’t known he had been missing. The reassurance that someone was completely his was something entirely new. Love had been a frivolous thing in the past. It had been a mere wish of a little boy desperate for something solid to hold onto. Jean was solid, something tangible. Even though neither of them had called their relationship what it was, they both knew. This was love. It was unconventional. It was even a little silly. It was theirs.

     Their love had been born out of rivalry. It grew in comforting words and selfless touches. It was cemented in gentle kisses trailed across Yuri’s jaw and Jean’s constant presence. Their love wasn’t like anyone else’s, it was perfectly imperfect. Yuri wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. The two of them were something wickedly beautiful. In a world defined by soulmates, they two of them were remarkably unique. They hadn’t known for years that they were meant to be together. Yuri had hated Jean, and then he had loved him. It was poetic in a way. Their love was opposite of them. It was quiet and gentle. It was whispered words spoken between not quite lovers. Yuri couldn’t have asked for more.

___________________________________________________

     Jean wrapped his arms around Yuri’s midsection and breathed in the smell of shampoo and vanilla lotion. Tilting his head back, Yuri looked up at him with wide happy eyes. _Let him stay like this forever._ Pressing a kiss to Yuri’s temple, Jean smiled. Whatever he was willing to give, Jean would take. He would take it without question.

     “Good morning,” Yuri muttered, eyes still heavy from sleep. Jean tucked his head into the crook of his neck and rested against Yuri for a moment. _Because I’m happy and I think he is too._ The blond leaned into the touch, body pressed against Jean’s. It was time, Jean decided. It was time to say the words that ached to crawl past his lips.

     “I love you,” Jean stated against Yuri’s skin, praying for them to be echoed back. Yuri’s entire body softened and slowly he turned in Jean’s arms. Fiercely intelligent eyes studied him and gentle hands cupped his cheeks. Those eyes found what they were looking for and the side of Yuri’s lips quirked upwards.

     “And I love you.” A gentle kiss was pressed to the corner of Jean’s mouth. _I’ve never wanted anything more than for you to just remain at my side. Just don’t leave me._ Jean moved forward and ducked his head, the two them meeting for another kiss. Even though there were birds chirping, cars honking their horns, and even the sound of the TV in the background all that existed was them. Something changed. Things were getting heated. The press of Yuri’s hips against his own was no longer seeking comfort. It was asking for something more. The line in the sand was no longer clearly defined.

     “Are you sure?” Yuri smiled at the question, eyes dancing behind thick lashes. Even if Jean wanted this, he could wait an eternity if need be.

     “Absolutely,”

     Blond curls lay splayed across brick red sheets. Yuri’s long legs were hooked over the curve of Jean’s hip. Full lips were pressed against his. Everything about Yuri was elegant. Their bodies were bare and being inside Yuri was the single most overwhelming thing Jean had every experienced. The breathy little noises the blond was making shook him. The way he arched into each of Jean’s touches was breathtaking. They made love slow and gentle in the early hours of the morning. It was a signature in the contract of their love. It was perfect and playful in a way Jean never thought it could be. It was them.

___________________________________________________

     Tracing his fingertips over the curve of Jean’s spine, Yuri simply watched. Jean watched too. It was a peaceful moment, shared between two people who were no longer almost lovers.

     “I’m leaving for Russia in one week,” Yuri murmured. Surprisingly he wasn’t sad to be leaving. He was excited, excited for the season to start and to compete.

     “I know.” Jean traced his fingertips of Yuri’s jaw, “Are you going to miss Canada?” He teased but there was a bigger question behind those words. Are you going to miss me? Yuri smirked and swiped some stray hairs out of his eyes.

     “Well Canada was actually quite bearable; to think I got used to your overly friendly countrymen and your terrible liquor. I’m not even mad that I you made me soft, my reputation as a punk will be completely ruined. And you’ve proven that you aren’t quite as big of a dick as I thought you were,” Yuri tried to sound teasing but the words came out affectionately. Jean kissed the tip of his nose and ran a hand through tangled golden locks.

     “You’ll visit again soon won’t you chaton?” Yuri laughed and tapped his index finger over Jean’s heart. The gesture meant more than it should have.

     “Oh no! Absolutely not!” Jean blinked at him in surprise, “You owe me an extended stay in Russia. I dealt with your food, your liquor, your city, and your family for two months! It’s your turn to deal with mine.” It was a perfectly Yuri way for him to ask Jean to spend time with the people he loved. In a way Yuri was asking him to come spend time with the Katsuki-Nikiforovs and drink ridiculous amounts of vodka. The perfect proposal if you were to ask him.

     “After the season is over,” Jean smiled, “I’ll book a flight straight to you.” He kissed Yuri, trying to get the grin off the younger man’s lips. It didn’t work.

     “It’s a date then!”

Epilogue

     Jean won the Grand Prix final and Yuri took the gold at worlds. Victor, Yuuri, and Nathalie watched them from the sidelines. After everything their families got a little bit bigger. The two families became one in a slow and comfortable fashion. Nathalie and Jean were enamored with Katarina Katsuki-Nikiforov, who even though she was adopted, managed to look remarkably like both of her fathers. When Claire met Victor Nikiforov for the first time, she told him that both of his Yuri’s were better than he would ever be. The older Russian had laughed and readily agreed with the fiery little girl.

     For two weeks Jean returned home to relax and get ready to travel to Russia. Yuri didn’t know it yet, but this had been his last season. There were parts of his body that couldn’t keep up with the rest of him anymore. The Leroys had decided to announce his retirement a couple weeks into his visit with Yuri. A visit that, if everything went right, would become an extended stay. Yuri Plisetski was Jean Leroy’s forever. If Yuri let him, Jean was planning to stay with him for the rest of his life. Nathalie and Alain were happy for their son. Isabella was more than happy, she was proud. Jean, well Jean had never felt more alive in his entire life.

     The baggage claim was bustling with people. Jean was able to understand the occasional Russian word every once and a while, having started studying. A gentle hand brushed over his shoulder. Jean turned and then gaped upwards at his soulmate who wore a completely shit eating grin. Apparently Yuri still had one last growth spurt in him. Now the blond stood a whole two inches or more taller than Jean. A smile crept across his face and he wrapped his arms around Yuri.

     “Hello love,” Yuri spoke into Jean’s hair. Pulling away, he looked up into green eyes and felt his heart stutter. This was everything he could have ever wanted and more. Yuri was his home. “Welcome to Russia.” Jean never wanted to leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all finished! *deep sigh* I've been missing my free time to write. I thought I would have more time recently but I was utterly mistaken. The school where I teach has decided to give me position that puts kids with behavioral issues in my care for tutoring and peer mentor-ship. It leaves me pretty exhausted.
> 
> I really liked how this story ended and I hope you do too! I can't wait to hear from all of you. Thank you to all my regular readers that I see comment on literally every chapter. You know who you are and I love you for it!
> 
> Much love and thanks,  
> Avery
> 
> P.S. I am planning on writing the Jean in Russia sequel!

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle up buttercups, this one is going to be a long one.
> 
> I can't wait to hear from all of you.  
> -Avery


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